Trieste to Ulm Crossing the Alps

17 - 22 May 2026

 

       

Total Distance: 621 km (386 miles)

Total Climb: 6,669 meters (21,879 feet)

 

Some climbs exceeded 15% inclines, making cycling impossible in sections.

Approximately 12 km had to be completed on foot, pushing and pulling the bicycle and baggage uphill at roughly 2 km/h

 

Sunday to Tuesday, 17–19 May 2026.

Saturday 16 May – Airport to Agriturismo Le Giarine. Fogliana Redipuglia. Italy.

                                    8.5km               32m

Day 1 Sunday 17 May – Lärdenwirt Dolomites. San Nicolo di Comolico. Gera. Italy.

                                    155km              1634m

Day 2 Monday 18 May – Lärdenwirt Dolomites. San Nicolo di Comolico. Gera. Italy.

                                     147km               854m

Day 3 Tuesday 19 May – Hotel Heidi. Toblach. Innichen. Italy.

                                       6km                 52m

What a significant three days.

I left Trieste on Sunday morning just before seven, full of enthusiasm for the road ahead. Things went well for a while, until my friend Google Maps started taking me on very inappropriate roads. At one point I was riding through bushes on a narrow gravel path where I could hardly stay upright, while branches slapped me in the face. Then suddenly there was a river in front of me with no bridge in sight, so I had to turn back. Through all of this, I probably already lost about 45 minutes.

I then decided to switch Google Maps to the motor car option, and things immediately went much better. At some point there was a highway I could not use because bicycles were prohibited, so I made a detour, but overall, the ride went well until early afternoon. Then the steep climbs slowly started.

After quite a long climb there was a wonderful downhill section, and I shifted gears to pick up speed going down. Suddenly my right-hand gear cable got stuck. I stopped and tried to fix it, but it was impossible. The only thing I could do was use an Allen key and cable ties to keep the bike in the lowest gear so that I could at least still get uphill.

I freewheeled down the hill, and then the serious climbing began, with a warning sign indicating a 15% incline. With my bike weighing more than 35 kilograms including luggage, it was impossible to cycle up. I had to start walking, pulling my bike uphill for about five kilometres at only two to three kilometres an hour. It took at least two hours.

Two people stopped to ask if I was okay. I explained that my bike was broken, but also that it was simply impossible to cycle such a steep climb.

Earlier that day, before the breakdown, I had cycled through a tunnel of about one and a half kilometres. That was an experience on its own. Every time cars entered the tunnel from either side, the noise exploded through the enclosed space. With nowhere for the sound to escape, it was impossible to know from which direction vehicles were coming until I saw headlights ahead or noticed them in my mirror behind me. At one point the sound became unbearably loud and overwhelming. I actually lost control of the bike for a moment and had to stop completely just to steady myself. It turned out to be five motorbikes coming through together, but the noise was more than I could bear.

It was interesting to see how many groups of five, six, or seven touring cyclists I passed in Northern Italy every now and then.

After the very steep climb and pulling my bike up that 15% incline for two hours, it was getting later in the afternoon. With snow covering the mountain peaks, the wind became extremely cold on the descents. Riding downhill at 30 to 40 kilometres an hour, the cold started cutting through me so badly that my whole body began shaking.

I stopped, and two things turned out to be absolute lifesavers. The first was my rain jacket, which I put on over everything else. It worked brilliantly as a windbreaker, stopping the freezing air from cutting through my clothes onto my skin. The second was my Stanley flask. Amazingly, even after five in the afternoon, there were still two cups of very hot tea inside. I put on my long cycling pants and winter gloves, drank the hot tea, and slowly warmth returned to my body. After that, I was okay to continue downhill toward the hotel.

It is unbelievably beautiful where I am travelling. Snow everywhere on the mountains, and when standing still there is actually very little wind, so the temperature feels quite manageable. But once you are moving on a bicycle at 20, 30, or 40 kilometres an hour, the cold wind cuts straight through you. Thankfully, with the protection I had, everything was okay.

I knew that if I could just get to the top of the climb, it would mostly be downhill to the hotel where I was staying, and thankfully that proved true. After the two-hour climb walking and pulling my bike up the steep incline, and by then about 12 hours on the bike, I could freewheel most of the remaining 25 kilometres to the hotel in Gera,. I checked in at about seven pm that evening after spending roughly 13 hours on the bike. Having done 155 km.

According to Strava, it was my steepest climb ever and also my longest bike ride this year. I think only the final ride from El Centro to San Diego last year was longer than this 13-hour day.

I told the lady at the hotel that my bike had broken down and that I needed to find a bike shop. She said her husband would come the next morning at eight to have a look. He arrived, examined the bike, and although he could not fix it, he said he had a friend with a bike shop about 50 kilometres away who might be able to help after work.

I replied that I could not sit around all day doing nothing, so I would rather cycle to the bike shop myself. He told me there was a bike road passing nearby and that although there were a few climbs, it should be manageable.

Well, that turned out to be quite an understatement.

A while later I got on the bike and followed the bike road, only to discover steep 10% climbs and rough rocky gravel tracks that were  impossible to cycle on. After trying for a while, I decided to turn back and take the motorway route instead, which turned out to be the correct decision.

What I did not realise was that for the first 25 kilometres of the 35-kilometre route, it would be relentless climbing with endless hairpin bends. Up to 1560 meter above sea level.   I kept looking back down into the valley, unable to believe how far I had climbed already, yet the road just continued higher and higher for hours. Finally, at about the 25-kilometre mark, I reached the top, and from there it was mostly freewheeling downhill to the bike shop.

I arrived at one o’clock, only to discover that the shop closed between twelve and two. So I found a very nice pizza place nearby, enjoyed an excellent pizza, and returned at two.

The mechanic looked at the bike and said he could probably fix it, but I would not get it back before five o’clock. That created a problem because it would make it very difficult to cycle back to the hotel that evening and then tackle that brutal 25-kilometre climb again the next morning, this time carrying all my luggage. I really did not feel capable of doing that.

So I started cycling back toward the hotel with the broken bike, not really knowing what my plan was anymore. I even began thinking perhaps I should just take a train home. But after about five kilometres, I received a message saying that the man who was supposedly going to help fix the bike after hours was actually on leave. At that point I turned around, went back to the bike shop, and told the mechanic to go ahead and repair it. I would collect it the next day.

Now I had to figure out the bus system. It took me about half an hour to work out where the bus stop was and how payment worked. The tourist information lady warned me that buses only accepted cash, so I had to find an ATM and withdraw money without even knowing how much the ticket would cost. But I actually had to buy a ticket online!

At five o’clock I finally boarded the bus. Without a ticket. The bus driver tried to help me.  He only spoke Italian and without my glasses it was hard for me to read the screen. The bus driver gave up and in a friendly tone said it's ok,  I could just ride with! I reached the hotel around seven that evening, after arranging to stay one more night.

I slept very well that night and had a good rest. The next morning, I packed everything up. Now I had to carry almost 30 kilograms of luggage myself, despite all the bags being designed to sit on a bicycle. That was quite an uncomfortable experience.

The bus stop was just under a kilometre away, so at ten o’clock I started walking there with all the luggage. I eventually boarded the bus, arrived in Innichen just before noon, and walked to the bike shop, completely forgetting that they closed from twelve until two. I arrived at seven minutes past twelve.

I searched on my app for somewhere to eat nearby, hardly believing I had to walk even further after already walking from the bus stop to the shop. Fortunately, there was a restaurant about 400 metres away. It was in an industrial area and mainly filled with factory workers, probably around a hundred people, but it turned out to be an excellent restaurant. Very busy, but very good food. I enjoyed a proper meal with coffee and ice cream while waiting for the shop to reopen.

At half past one I walked back to the bike shop. My bike was fixed, everything worked perfectly again, and I cycled about 10 kilometres to the hotel where I am staying tonight.

I have now worked out that I should be able to reach Innsbruck tomorrow evening. Thursday is a fasting day, but I should still manage at least 120 kilometres, and then another 120 to 130 kilometres on Friday should get me to Ulm.

I contacted my friend Bettina, who rescued me from the cold last year while I was also cycling from Trieste over the Alps, and she has kindly offered to help me arrange a train ticket from Ulm to Amsterdam. She also invited me to stay over for the night.

God is good. Despite all the difficult things that happened over these three days, and despite losing two cycling days, it now seems that I should still be back in Amsterdam on Saturday night, have Sunday to recover, and then fly to Guatemala City on Monday morning for the Operation Smile mission.

Day 4 Wednesday  20 May – Hotel Edelweiss. Götzens. Innsbruck, Austria.     

      

                           145km              1771m

Day four began with a wonderful full breakfast at 06:00 in the morning. The lady at Hotel Heidi was kind enough to prepare the buffet breakfast for me more than an hour earlier. So, after getting up at about five, I could sit down, enjoy a good meal, and then start cycling by about 07:30. After about 15 minutes on the road, I suddenly could not remember what I had done with my glasses. Certain that I could not have left them behind, I stopped, opened my bags, and thankfully found them in the top of one of them. Relieved, I packed everything up again and continued cycling.

 

The morning ride was fairly good, with quite a bit of climbing, but manageable. Around lunchtime I stopped at a beautiful church in a small village and took a picture. About fifty metres away I noticed a place where several cyclists were sitting having coffee and something to eat, so I decided to do the same. I parked my bike outside, went in, bought a coffee, a sweet snack, and a yoghurt, and sat down at a table outside.

Next to me was another cyclist from the UK. He started chatting to me and told me he was cycling from Devon, UK to Croatia, where he would meet his wife and children. I was impressed by how lightly he was travelling, with only a bag fixed to the saddle and one smaller bag fixed to the middle frame of his bike. He was obviously experienced, judging by both his equipment and his clothing. He told me he carried only one set of clothes, a few spanners for repairs, and very little else. He was cycling close to 200 kilometres a day. I felt slightly foolish with all my luggage, and he kept asking what I had packed in all my bags. One thing I told him was that I was prepared for very cold conditions. I carried enough warm clothing in case something happened again like two years earlier, when I got stranded near Munchen in Germany.

Soon enough he left, and I slowly packed up and continued my own journey. As the afternoon progressed, the climbs became steeper and steeper. At one point I stopped at a bench overlooking magnificent snow-capped mountains. A lady passed by, and I asked her to take a picture of me, which she gladly did.

A couple of hours later, while resting on another bench, a group of about ten hikers passed me. They began speaking to me. They could hardly speak English, I could barely understand German, and yet somehow, we still managed to have a surprisingly interesting conversation.

 

The rest of the afternoon became increasingly difficult. The climbs just kept getting steeper, and eventually I completed a climb of 1,771 metres. The road itself was reasonable, except for the last few kilometers. I ended up in a holiday resort and Google Maps pointed me to a very narrow steep gravel road going down. It was so narrow that I at first missed it but circling around like a homing pigeon I found the road. There was another cyclist checking his phone at that point, probably also wondering if this could be true. He had twice as much luggage on his bike that what I had and I felt a bit better. It was the only road and fortunately less than a kilometre. I finally arrived at the hotel at about 18:30 in the evening, still in time for dinner which was closing at 20:00. It was a good buffet meal, which felt necessary, because  the following day, Thursday the 21st of May, was to be a fasting day.

 

Day 5 Thursday 21 May – Blochums Gasthof Hirsch. Marktoberdorf. Germany.   

     

                      147km              1618m

This day began with my routine 2026 fasting: breakfast of muesli and tea and only water, coffee and tea the rest of the day. I left the hotel at about 08:30 in the morning. Following the bicycle route on Google Maps going well on nice bike roads, I eventually turned off through a small village onto a very steep road, initially tarred, which I walked/climbed for perhaps ten or fifteen minutes. I became so hot that I started removing some of my upper clothing, but the incline quickly became impossible to cycle, and I had to start pulling  the bike uphill.

Soon enough the road turned into gravel. The route showed another four to five kilometres of this terrain ahead. I attempted it for about half an hour, walking and pulling my bike uphill at about 2km/hour, before finally deciding that it will simply take too long. I turned back and switched Google Maps to the car route instead. That worked much better, and I made good progress for the rest of the morning.

 

Although I was fasting and not eating the whole day, I actually felt completely fine, something I often experience while fasting. I was travelling at a good pace. My energy remained positive and steady.

Eventually I reached the Krebsbach Fern Pass and found myself standing in front of a tunnel through which bicycles were not allowed. I began looking for alternative routes. Google Maps suggested a very narrow gravel road, but I could not imagine how it would be possible, especially because I knew I would still need to climb a significant altitude. I cycled around town for quite some time, even looking for a police station to ask about possible routes over the mountain. Time was slipping away. I even attempted to order an Uber, but ‘fortunately’ no vehicles were available.

Eventually I asked a young man working at a coffee bar how difficult the road over the mountain was and whether it was possible at all. He replied that it was very steep, but certainly doable. After wasting perhaps sixty to ninety minutes trying to figure out how to get over the last push of the Alps. I finally put Google Maps back onto the bicycle route, found the little gravel road again, and began the climb.

This climb turned out to be far steeper and tougher than I had expected—or ever done in my life. The higher I climbed, the worse it became. Eventually I had to walk almost continuously, pulling my bike against gradients of more than 15%, and at times even close to 20%. The route still showed about five kilometres remaining, and I realised it would likely take another two to three hours just to reach the top.

At one point I sat down on a small bench to catch my breath and assess how much distance and altitude still remained ahead of me. While sitting there, two people came past cycling in the same direction I was going, on e-bikes! Working hard even with motor assistance. A little later a young man and woman came by on gravel bikes without luggage, climbing steadily upward—very impressive. Then, shortly afterwards, two girls passed me with bicycles loaded almost as heavily as my own, also forced to walk pulling their bikes uphill.

Slowly, step by step, I continued working my way upward. After several exhausting hours, I finally reached the top, where things became somewhat easier. But by then it was already late afternoon, around 17:00 to 18:00, and I realised my phone batteries were running low while I still had more than sixty kilometres remaining to cycle.

I knew I could not risk losing phone power—without navigation I would be completely lost. My only real option was to stop at a restaurant, charge my phones, and eat something while waiting. I stopped at a restaurant Tsharnuter Gastro in Ehrwald. The waiter was very friendly, and although I certainly could have continued without food, I decided to eat anyway, effectively ‘breaking’ my fast. I thought about the disciples of Jesus picking grain on the Sabbath when the Pharisees criticised them, and how Jesus reminded them of David and his men eating the holy bread in the temple. Sometimes continuing the mission becomes more important than strictly following the rules themselves. Though I continued after this with my fast till the next morning.

After about an hour, with both my phones charged and a good meal finished, I got back on the bike. It was now about 19:00 in the evening, and darkness would come by around 21:00. I switched Google Maps onto car routes because the bicycle routes would simply take too long.

I still had about sixty kilometres remaining. Again, I made good progress, until once more I arrived at another tunnel — this one near the Austrian-German border. I did not initially realise I had accidentally ended up on a highway. My Google Maps settings was to avoided toll roads and highways, so I assumed I was still on an ordinary road. Since it was already about 23:00 at night and traffic was light, I presumed I was OK. I got off the bike and started walking through the tunnel on the sidewalk.

The tunnel was just over a kilometre long. Not long after entering, I saw blue flashing lights approaching from the front. I immediately thought, “I am sure they are looking for me,” and sure enough, when they reached me, they turned around, stopped, and asked what I was doing on a road where bicycles were forbidden.

I explained that I genuinely had not realised I was on a prohibited road, and that Google Maps had brought me there. After taking pictures of my passport and visa, they informed me that they would escort me through the tunnel, but that I would still had to walk.

So there I was, walking through the tunnel with blue police lights flashing behind me while all the traffic was forced to crawl along behind them at my walking pace. Surprisingly, I was not overly upset, because I knew I had not done it intentionally and trusted that things would work out.

When we finally emerged from the tunnel, we arrived at what was effectively a border post. The officers explained that they were German police, but technically the tunnel itself was still on the Austrian side, meaning Austrian police also needed to be involved. About fifteen or twenty minutes later the Austrian officers arrived, followed by many discussions, questions, phone calls to senior officers, and formalities.

They realised that I was cycling for charity, and one officer, after hearing where I had come from and where I was heading, asked me in disbelief whether I was a professional cyclist — which I certainly am not.

Eventually they explained that because I had trespassed onto a prohibited road, they were obliged to issue fines: twenty-five euros for being inside the tunnel, and another twenty-five euros for cycling on the highway. I did point out that on the Austrian side there had not been a single sign indicating I had entered a highway; the first signs only appeared after the tunnel on the German side.

One of the younger officers, who was especially friendly and helpful, then asked me to show him my route to the hotel to ensure I would not accidentally end up on another prohibited road. When we checked the route together, we realised the correct road was actually directly above us. Either they would need to escort me further along the highway, or we could carry the bike up several flights of steep stairs through a locked gate they could unlock.

We chose the stairs.

My bike, together with all the luggage, weighed close to fifty kilograms. With great effort, the two police officers and I carried and pushed the bike up the equivalent of three storeys of stairs. Once we finally reached the top, I thanked them sincerely and apologised for the inconvenience. In spite of everything, they remained remarkably friendly, gracious, and kind.

I then set off once more into the darkness for the final twenty-five kilometres. Thankfully the route was now mostly flat, perhaps even slightly downhill. I finally reached the hotel at about 01:00 in the morning.

I had already arranged late check-in with the hotel manager, who had left instructions for me to retrieve the key from a coded lockbox. After locking my bike outside and noticing the security cameras watching me arrive, I entered the hotel. The room number had not been communicated to me, so I searched the guest list on the reception desk until I found my name and room number.

By the time I unpacked, showered, and finally switched off the light, it was around 02:30 in the morning.

Day 6 Friday 22 May – Bettina Ulm. Germany.

                   112km              708m

The next morning, when I came down for breakfast, I knew I only had just over one hundred kilometres remaining and virtually no more climbing. I had done it. I was over the Alps.

When the hotel manager saw me, he laughed and said, “Oh, this is the crazy guy,” explaining that he had watched me arrive on the cameras during the night.

After a wonderful breakfast, I left at about 09:30 for Ulm.

A beautiful day. The weather was warm, around 20 to 25 degrees Celsius. There was almost no climbing and no gravel roads, only smooth bicycle paths and quiet secondary roads. It was truly a day of easy riding.

 

I reached Bettina in Ulm at about 17:00 in the afternoon. That evening we went out together with her nephew and his girlfriend. By about 22:00 I was already in bed.

Saturday 23 May – Amsterdam

The Saturday morning, Bettina drove me to the train station. She had kindly arranged a train ticket for me. We arrived around 09:15 and waited for the train. Germany’s ICE train system is wonderfully organised; before the train arrives you can already see exactly where the bicycle carriage will stop, allowing you to stand directly in front of the correct section. My bicycle also had its own reserved numbered space inside the train.

Because it was now the beginning of summer, the trains were extremely full. Bettina had only been able to book first class for me, which meant I first had to remove all my panniers and then walk several carriages through crowded train corridors carrying my heavy luggage trying not to bump people—the most difficult part of the day.

I did not fully understand the seating arrangements and eventually sat down in what turned out to be a reserved seat. By then the train was so crowded that I did not really know where else to go. Fortunately, when the conductor eventually arrived, I explained the situation, and he kindly told me that the person who had reserved the seat obviously never boarded the train, so it was perfectly fine for me to remain there.

After about five hours of travel, I had to change trains at Duisburg. Again, I had navigate long walks through crowded carriages carrying all my luggage, careful not to bump into people as I passed. Eventually I found what appeared to be the very last available seat.

Finally, at about 16:00 in the afternoon, I arrived at Amsterdam Central Station. I disembarked, collected my bicycle, and cycled home, arriving around 16:30 with a thankful heart.

Even though I did not cycle the entire way back to Amsterdam — which would have been impossible with my Guatemala flight on Monday morning (which was cancelled) — I still felt deeply grateful. Of course I would have loved to complete the entire distance by bicycle, but I can now truly say that I have crossed the Alps twice by bicycle, unsupported, and that this second attempt was far more difficult than the first, with much tougher roads, especially the endless stretches of extremely steep gravel climbs that made cycling impossible.

But I am home safely, and all is good. 

 

Why I do these annual bike trips?

 It is part of my deeper calling. What began in 2014 as a fundraising effort has, by God’s grace, grown into a ways also supporting the provision of Bibles as you well know. Yet it is not only about the cause—it is also about stewardship.

The Lord has called me to serve Him, and to do so faithfully I must care for both body and mind. Cycling helps me stay physically strong while also bringing clarity and renewal to my thoughts. In the steady rhythm of the road, I often find space to reflect and pray.

These annual trips also give me discipline and purpose throughout the year, encouraging me to remain active and prepared. I love cycling, and I love serving God, and I am grateful that these can come together in this way. My prayer is that He will sustain me to continue serving Him with strength, clarity, and joy for many years to come.